Free The Devil's Garden by Edward Docx Page A

me closely and yet when I sought his eye he was looking away.
    ‘How is the project going?’ he asked.
    ‘Well. We are on the right path – but, of course, proof takes time.’
    He nodded slowly. He affected to take an interest. But he addressed us like we were all well-meaning children – vague and deluded and a long way from what was important, but good-hearted
all the same and not necessarily exiled from hope for all eternity. Perhaps he was merely reflecting our opinion of him back at us.
    ‘Who told you the Judge was at Tupki’s?’ I asked.
    ‘I gave one of the villagers a lift on my boat. Everyone is talking about it.’ He said this to emphasize that he alone could speak the Indian languages well enough to know what they
were discussing among themselves.
    ‘What do you think is going on, Tord?’
    ‘I don’t know, sir. Nor can I be sure whether it is for good or for evil.’
    ‘That must be awkward for you.’
    ‘I’m not saying that I cannot be guided by the Light once I have learned the true nature of events. Just that I have yet to learn that nature.’ He closed his eyes a moment as
if to make inward enquiry of whichever Evangelist might recently have begun to whisper within his breast. ‘Kim says that the Judge is rude, that the Colonel barely talks and that the soldiers
are disgusting.’
    ‘Judge not, lest ye be judged, Tord.’
    ‘Do you not know that we will judge angels? How much more then the things of this life?’
    I admired his quickness. ‘Maybe you should ask one of them to deliver the homily at the next get-together of your mission, Tord, how about the Sermon on the Mount? Blessed are the pure in
heart.’
    He joined his hands. ‘You seem even more subversive than usual tonight, if I might say so, Dr Forle.’
    ‘I’m sorry. Maybe it’s just that I never really understood the Sermon on the Mount.’
    ‘If I thought that there was anything other than your usual mischief behind that statement I would offer to sit down and have a right and proper conversation with you about it.’
    ‘Sorry, Tord. Not tonight. I have to check my emails have gone through.’ I crossed back to the dry room. I was, I realized, obscurely pleased by Tord’s visit. The screen told
me they had been sent. I sat down and logged out.
    Tord had followed me. ‘It must be very disruptive,’ he said, gentle almost.
    I looked up. ‘Kim is right – about the Judge and the Colonel. And yes – I’m anxious about the work and I don’t like the idea of the Station turning into some sort
of cod-military base while we are here. But there’s nothing we can do and there’s no reason why it should affect us.’ I was suddenly desperate for soap and our lukewarm water. I
sat waiting a moment but still his eyes were fixed above my head. ‘What can I do for you, Tord? I’m guessing you didn’t come here to hear all about my progress on the questions of
multi-level evolutionary selection?’
    ‘Oh, I wondered if you would mind if I borrowed the computer again. Just for fifteen minutes or so.’
    ‘Be my guest.’ I stood and gestured toward the chair. ‘Shut it down when you have finished.’
    ‘Thank you kindly.’
    I stepped through the plastic but could not resist adding over my shoulder: ‘Keep it clean, though, Tord, keep it clean.’
    I realized that I had covertly been looking forward to my single malt all day. I did not stint. I collected fresh clothes. I regretted not putting a password on the new
sections of my book since they included some more diary-like side observations about the Station and how the others were getting on – nothing that I needed to hide but still Tord was
inquisitive to the point of deviousness and he intuited things astonishingly well. Many of the missionaries did. Their work required a great deal of non-verbal perception. They spread their lethal
cult-lore (and their lethal viruses) among the tribes with patience and great perspicacity. Our region, because of its